


What You'll See Is The Worst Me

by HauntMeReckless



Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Asshole Ghosts, Autistic Egon, Awkward Conversations, Background Poly, Bad Attempts At Science, Bad Puns, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Ghosts, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Panic Attacks, Paranormal, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, also bad at summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HauntMeReckless/pseuds/HauntMeReckless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Egon is suddenly struck with a panic attack out on a call, leaving Ray reeling in his own worry, and Peter to pick up the pieces. But while Egon is upset that his own inner demons he'd long since buried had come back in force - the Ghostbusters start to realize it was an actual demon twisting one of their own. And Egon isn't about to take that lying down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You'll See Is The Worst Me

**Author's Note:**

> 'I will ask you for mercy  
> I will come to you blind  
> What you’ll see is the worst me  
> But Not the last of my kind.

Ray wasn’t exactly sure what first alerted him to the fact that something wrong with Egon.

His eyes were firmly on their surroundings, surveying the large and imposing New York hostel they were investigating, when out of his periphery Ray had noticed the man keel forward and reach out to put a hand on the smooth brick wall in front of the scientist. It was more the movement that he saw because he had an uneasy feeling about this hostel… and they hadn’t even stepped through the front door.

“Egon, are you all right?” Ray asked and glanced over at the taller scientist in concern. And immediately did a double take. Because Egon was pale as a sheet, just as white all over, and had apparently broken out into a cold sweat. And he was leaning into his hand like it was the only thing keep him upright, Egon’s eyes firmly closed as he apparently struggled to breathe in and out evenly.

Egon had barely caught himself against the wall of the bank at all and that’s what Ray hadn’t seen - a wave of dizziness and vertigo all too familiar assaulting the scientist’s senses. Egon had closed his eyes and had felt himself almost leave his body in response to the cacophony of sensation and not in the paranormal sense. Not in the physical one either but it was enough to fool his mind into thinking the sensation was very real and very palpable. A ‘dissociative spell’ Peter had called it. But it had been years… _years_ -

“Hey now.” he heard Ray say beside him, obviously more than a little concerned now, but Egon couldn’t leave the wall, he couldn’t even right himself or stand upright. The world was swimming even in the blackness behind his closed eyelids and it was a struggle to feel grounded. It was even harder to cope knowing that Ray’s full attention was now completely on him.

“No-” Egon groaned quietly. He hated this. He hated this. The loss of control and worse, being visibly caught losing that control. It was so foolish and irritating and it made little actual sense or sense rather that Egon refused to look at fully. And maybe that was irrational. But what he was experiencing _was_ irrational.

Ray’s breath caught in concern when the groaned word escaped Egon’s lips. “Egon-” And the name was a very intimate and concerned sounding thing but Ray couldn’t help it. And he reached out immediately for Egon’s shoulder. “Egon talk to me. What is it?” he demanded.

His hand barely made contact.

“Don’t touch me.” Egon whispered because the taller scientist knew it was going to happen but just a microsecond too late apparently because the sentence was hardly out of his mouth before he felt Ray put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey-” Ray said gently, voice pitched soothingly, just above a whisper.

“Just don’t touch me-” Egon tried again, louder, but Ray wasn’t listening, wrapping an arm around his stomach and pressing close. At least he attempted to maintain a distance, there was that much, but it was all happening so quickly. And Ray wasn’t listening because he couldn’t. He couldn’t ignore Egon like this, in whatever state of distress that he was in. More than that even, somehow, Ray was actually concerned that Egon was going to topple over and took some of his weight purely out of outright concern of the seemingly very real possibility.

“Egon talk to me.” Ray tried, urged the other man. And he struggled to sound completely calm. He struggled not to sound scared. But he’d always been the emotional type and he probably wasn’t doing as good of a job at keeping both the worry and fear out of his voice but it wasn’t much like Ray could help it. “Come on now. What’s the matter?”

“I…” And then the anxiety hit Egon. Like a wall of bricks collapsing onto him from above and burying him deep, the disassociation had apparently lifted enough to topple everything else over. And Egon was sweating a cold sweat although he had been before. He felt even more impossibly dizzy, the world was swimming from behind his eyes - which he refused to open. Egon felt like _he_ was spinning. As if his body was in a black, gently tossing ocean. In a constant state of flux. “I can’t--” he managed quickly, heart pounding, feeling like his throat was being squeezed shut. “I - I can’t--”

“Okay, okay. _Easy_ -” Ray’s heart in his throat, he quickly reached for his radio. “Stantz to Venkman, come in - over.” he said urgently in the calmest voice he could manage. But Egon was gasping for air, the aborted attempts nearly soundless gasps as if that wasn’t terrifying enough and the taller scientist was heavy against his arm, the toes of their boots touching on the pavement.

 _“Yeah I read you.”_ Peter immediately responded, sounding typically nonchalant but there was an edge of concern in his voice. _“You guys in the building yet? It’s drafty in here.”_

“We haven’t even gotten inside.” Ray practically spoke over the Ghostbuster. “Something’s wrong with Spengler.”

And just like that, he who mostly was considered the leader of the Ghostbusters was completely serious in an instant. _“What’s wrong with Spengler?”_ Peter demanded.

“Not sure if it’s an anxiety attack or-”

Egon groaned in Ray’s half embrace and against a clenched fist, he just couldn’t get enough air - he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus on anything at all and everything was spinning. And suddenly Egon heard the sound of boots shuffling and scuffing on the concrete and he realized it was him and it was Ray, the arm around Egon’s stomach tightening. And Ray momentarily directed his voice away from the radio and more quietly to Egon, just barely catching him in time. “It’s all right, it’s all right-” And then to the radio. “Peter just get down here.”

_“I’m coming. Spengler? You hear me baby? I’m coming. You just hold on for me.”_

The slip of the pet name both shocked and scared Ray. Because they did their best to keep their mostly polyamorous relationship out of the public eye for good reasons and radios were anything if secure. It was like a bucket of ice.

Egon’s stomach lurched but not in an unpleasant way. More in thankful, breathless type of desperate and hopeful sort of way. And Egon willed the man to hurry. To just hurry. Because he’d never felt his heart race this fast, he’d never felt this breathless and choked, and the world was swimming and lurching but he found the wall and pushed Ray away with determined hands. “ _Don’t_ touch me. I need you to-” Egon pulled in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “I need you to not touch me-”

“Okay.” And Ray seemed hurt but he did as Egon said and slowly and carefully withdrew. “Okay. That’s all right. But if you fall I’m sorry, and I’m not sorry, I’ll have to disobey that demand.” he said, pointing the tip of the radio antenna at Egon in emphasis.

All Egon could do was manage something he desperately hoped wasn’t a whimper.

But apparently it might have been. Because Ray just sounded painfully concerned. “Oh Egon-” he whispered. “Just hold on sweetheart. Hold on now.”

Egon was trying. He was really trying.

And Ray felt equal parts conflicted and considerably pained, holding himself back purely because Egon wished it but only just barely. He respected that he could be overwhelmed by too much contact or social interaction he really did. But Ray had never experienced anything so hard as this. “I’m here if you need me okay? You just say the word.”

All Egon could do was manage a nod that he instantly regretted and he groaned, hands forming into fists against the concrete wall until he was sure his knuckles were white.

“Just breathe…” Ray soothed in a low voice, chest tightening even further in affectionate, loving concern seeing Egon in that one nod trying to be strong for him. Reassuring even. Commanding. “Just breathe. Do you think this is paranormal?” Maybe gearing Egon to stretch that genius intellect of his would distract him from his potential panic attack. Or worse.

“No.” Egon forced out. “But… I don’t know.” he gasped.

And he almost fell again, Egon thought for sure he was going to lose consciousness or just die on the spot right there in his boots, but suddenly he heard the sound of a door opening and footsteps. Running quickly. And he was being caught again and Egon almost fought and shouted in his impending panic but suddenly, suddenly he heard a voice and knew immediately whose hands they were. “ _Easy_ , easy, Egon! Easy baby. I got you. I’ve got you now. I’m here.” Peter’s voice came soothing, speaking over his anxiety but not shouting. And in a heartbeat his voice was something louder. And a lot like a rescue from the worst panic and anxiety Egon had ever experienced.

Egon grasped onto Peter’s tan flight suit in pure desperation and outright relief and could have cried right then. “Peter please -- please--” _Make it stop._

Ray felt like he was going to break into pieces on the spot and threw a bewildered look at Peter, maybe begging a little himself outright for the psychiatrist to fix this. To fix their lover and best friend or at least stop Egon from shattering into a million and one pieces.

“I will. I’m going to. Oh baby I’m going to.” Peter assured Egon immediately. A hand started stroking through his hair as Peter made that intent promise and Egon buried his face into the Ghostbuster’s neck, Peter’s arms holding him in a close, steadying grip and he felt safe right here. Just a little. Just a fraction. Enough to hold on even if just for now and it was everything even if it was only that minuscule fraction between total and complete insanity. “It’s okay.” Peter soothed, voice impossibly sure and confidant and soothing. “It’s _okay_ baby.” And then he said to Ray. “Ecto 1. Backseat under the bench. Get the oxygen kit. Fast as you can-”

“I think I-” It was all the warning Egon could get out, barely pulling himself to the side and away from Peter before his stomach expelled what little he’d eaten that day. As such, it was mostly clear and like water and such as it was… he didn’t get away from Peter entirely. As a matter of fact Egon… probably would have done less damage if he hadn’t managed an attempt in the first place.

Ray quickly reached out for Egon, catching him around the hips.

“Oh, oh now-!” Peter soothed, holding onto Egon tightly by the arms and frankly he’d had a lot worse than this. He was far more concerned now with pulling Egon through a damn near crisis. “Easy, easy. That’s okay-” Peter soothed softly, watching Egon close, watching his lover for any signs of trouble. But Egon wasn’t apparently having any problem at all throwing up all over his boots.

“Ray.” Peter gave the man in question a firm look. “The oxygen kit.”

“Right. Right.” Ray said, obviously flustered but pulling himself together quickly. “You got him?”

“Yeah just go.” Peter said and tucked an arm around Egon’s hips and back and that was exactly when, through some miraculous timing, that Egon - shaking and completely winded and rattled - completely collapsed. “Egon!” He wasn’t unconscious Peter realized, his own heart skipping an unsteady beat and his breath catching in concern as he tried to ease the man away from his own vomit and to the ground. Because he was definitely going there anyway. “Egon talk to me-”

“-the hell!” Peter heard someone exclaim and looked up to see Winston running quickly over to them.

“Get his pack off.” Peter ordered, voice still pitched soothing for Egon but it was urgent all the same. “Quickly-”

Winston didn’t apparently know what the hell was going on but quickly did as Peter said and for that much, Peter was grateful. He liked the man a hell of a lot because he was good under pressure and generally rock steady and right now that was a huge help. Right now was no exception to any and all of those things.

“Egon?” Peter said once they had him at least sitting on the pavement and the Proton Pack to the side propped up against a fire hydrant, cradling his lover’s neck in a hand and to keep his head upright. “Egon I know you can hear me. I need you to say the word.” he coaxed. “Say the word for me.”

Egon’s eyes were almost completely rolled into the back of his head, his breaths were uneven and ragged and his hands had a death grip on Peter’s tan suit. It was a full on catatonic class neurotic fit induced by one of his dissociative panic attacks and Peter struggled to be the calm, centered psychiatrist seeing his lover gripped like this and completely torn apart. It had been years since he’d seen it this bad. Hell he’d only seen it this bad once in their entire history. But he’d put a hell of a lot of work into Egon purely by choice and a challenge he’d wholeheartedly accepted and even went looking for probably. Because Peter had always known that Egon had issues. And the psychiatrist in him just hadn’t been able to refuse.

 

_… “- I think you’re an egotistical, self centered, narcissistic womanizer. And I’m suggesting you leave this lab before I call security.”_

Peter stared up at the imposing scientist with a fixed smile on his face, the looming man near him unmovable and while the dark haired, awkwardly gorgeous man would probably have just been awkward and far less threatening - and maybe even the least threatening person in the room - he was actually doing a real good job of looking like he could throw Peter out. And like he wanted to do worse.

Peter gave the undergraduate student to his left a glance, mostly over her … ‘assets’. Which were a damn shame to stop chasing. “All right.” he agreed easily, giving the the darkly angry looking scientist near him that same, easy smile he’d had earlier. “Can I at least know the name of the person throwing me out of my labs?”

“Dr. Spengler. And these aren’t your labs. They’re our labs. But this space is mine. And I won’t have you harassing my colleagues.”

Peter raised his hands and purposely kept his eyes off the flustered and angry looking blonde refusing to step away from where he’d well and definitely stepped into her personal space a few moments ago. “Hey no harm done. Just having a little fun is all-”

“Out.” Dark eyes flashed angrily and Peter fought back a grin as he retreated to the other side of the room.

“You know you have a temper.”

“And you have all the warmth of a serial rapist.” The blonde shot at him coldly and Peter gave her an angry glance he couldn’t help but suppress. His guts twisted a little bit at the accusation, he’d heard far worse, but it didn’t change up how much it hurt and how much he hated that it did.

And that was the double edged sword of being a psychiatrist. Knowing how to explain your own actions, looking beyond the actions of others to see a reason, and yet knowing that no one else would do the same. It didn’t matter that his father had been manipulated and twisted by his strung out and alcoholic mother who’d been a bipolar, manic demon. It didn’t matter that she’d beat him as a child, all the classic and almost laughable, atypical cliche types of things to make a boy grow up to beat his wife. It didn’t matter that his deep, almost residing hate of women stemmed from all that abuse and a few bad relationships.

It didn’t matter because Peter had an image to keep and apparently he was so good at keeping it that sometimes even he forgot that he wasn’t actually a piece of trash who enjoyed twisting women and throw a few of their own games back at them. What did it matter? It wasn’t like he was interested in anything long term. What was the harm of a little fun?

What did it matter if he had his reasons and that he hated himself for them?

“Hey you better watch those accusations.” Peter said, pointing a finger at her. “Little girls start throwing that word around without knowing the damage it can do.”

The blonde, Tiffany, actually looked a little apologetic but Peter left before he could notice the dark, good looking scientist’s own angry expression reluctantly softening.

 

Peter came back later that afternoon after Tiffany was gone with good intentions and to apologize over coffee. Talking over the whole situation and venting a little with Ray, the only person who actually knew him out of the whole goddamned human population and still actually liked him, he’d found out something pretty interesting about Dr. Spengler. Apparently he wasn’t too interested in women. And while it was interesting Spengler could still be the ‘white knight’ type if apparently provoked… Peter felt especially interested in making amends. Because Peter had been attracted to the guy but he hadn’t had time exactly to do the whole psychoanalysis on the Spengler’s sexuality. And now he was eager to do just that.

Peter aggressively dated women because it was practically a compulsion at this point. But he’d always been interested in men. He’d just never come across one he’d been interested in. But Spengler… Now he was a Rubix cube painted in black. And that was something Peter couldn’t just stop to look more closely at.

Dr. Spengler was definitely some degree of autistic, perhaps even so far as to say the scientist might have Asperger’s. If the way Ray seemed particular excited to get invested in that parapsychology project of his and how Spengler seemed equally, even obsessively interested in the topic was any indication. The two seemed to be joining forces to prove to the world that ghosts really existed and at this point Peter was just about ready to get a degree in parapsychology himself just to prove a point.

Gently clearing his throat as he approached Spengler sitting at his desk avidly studying reports of… Peter looked more closely over Spengler’s shoulder and his mind immediately went a little numb. He’d stick to psychology for the time being and leave the real nerdy stuff to Spengler. He could keep up but that was some real heavy shit. And Peter set the coffee on the scientist’s desk instead. Who’d barely given him a glance. More an uneasy one if anything. But he was invested in what he was doing. Or ignoring him.

“What’s this?” Spengler said, barely a query, glancing at the coffee and reaching out for it.

“An apology.” Peter said.

Spengler gave him a look over the round lenses of his glasses. “You’re serious.” he said, a blunt and maybe even surprised observation. The man had little tonal inflection when he spoke. Given the momentary and surprising flash of anger Spengler had had earlier on Tiffany’s behalf, that dark and vaguely threatening look in his eyes, Peter knew in his gut the man had Asperger’s. He definitely fell on the autistic spectrum. But Peter was fixated on the awkwardly gorgeous man.

“You’re surprised.” Peter returned, to Spengler’s previous observation.

Spengler shifted uncomfortably where he sat and set the coffee aside and averted his gaze. “I’m not sure I should forgive you.”

“I think that’s fair.” Peter said.

Spengler seemed surprised by that too. They were practically micro expressions, especially in comparison to Ray. Especially in comparison to Ray.

The scientist cleared his throat, as if to say something, but ultimately didn’t and shifted again uncomfortably. First he reached for his tie and then for the arms of his office chair, needlessly adjusting it too. Peter took in every flustered, awkward gesture. He took in every single notion of his anxiety. He knew Peter himself wasn’t making Spengler uncomfortable. He was sure next to everything social would and it wasn’t anything personal. Peter didn’t let him get any more anxious either.

“Go out with me.” And why on earth he’d laid all so casually, so suddenly, even surprised Peter at first. But it was out now and he found that he really didn’t want to take it back either now that it was. And he just wouldn’t. Because Peter had the urge to use every single part of his psychology degree to make Spengler just a little more comfortable, cared for. Loved? Could he go that far? Spengler was making it impossible him to walk away from the possibility like it otherwise would with a woman.

Peter felt genuinely, compassionately urged to help Spengler in some way. But more than anything he wanted to get closer.

Spengler’s ears noticeably reddened and his face flushed at the sudden, bold statement. And he went rigid all over, back stiffening over his desk. The tall scientist gripped the pencil in his hand so sudden that it snapped and so he dropped it, flustered all over again. “I’m - I’m not --”

Peter cut off his stuttering smoothly. “And what if you were?”

But when Spengler didn’t answer, looking very effectively caught - and he wasn’t trying to say he wasn’t into men anymore either - Peter just pressed a bit harder. “So what do you like? Coffee? Dinner?” Egon was just silent, apparently he’d thrown the scientist into a state of shock, and Peter waited a moment but then eased away from the desk to leave. “Okay.” he acquiesced easily. Because he knew Spengler was interested. In fact…

“Ice cream.” He heard Spengler say suddenly from behind him.

Peter turned, keeping most of the smile off his face but only barely managing to stop himself from grinning triumphantly but more than that. But more than that. Ice cream. And Egon was looking way more embarrassed than he had been before. “Coffee. I like coffee.” Spengler looked to give himself a swift mental kick but what came out next was just as awkward. “I do eat dinner yes.”

And just like that Peter had practically fallen head over heels for Dr. Egon Spengler.

“I’ll pick you up at five tonight for ice cream.” Peter smiled.

And when Spengler looked a heartbreaking amount of shocked and amazed and overwhelmed - Peter could see a low or a complete lack of self-esteem where it was apparent - Peter managed to give him a smooth, affectionate wink before he left. He could scarcely keep himself from grinning as he left.

 

 **But it wasn’t like those observations of Asperger’s or his autistic tendencies had stopped Peter from noticing other things.** While he wouldn’t defend that he was a very good person, he was a very good psychiatrist. And surprisingly, Egon hadn’t exactly hidden his other issues from Peter either. In fact, he’d been pretty upfront and honest. To push Peter away, certainly but only just. It more that he seemed to welcome Peter’s desire to help.

 

 _... Peter wouldn’t call himself happy. All right. He would. He was stupidly happy this afternoon and nearly most of it was from a certainly awkward, gorgeous scientist by the name of Egon Spengler._ It had only taken a few dates for him to be hooked. He wanted to know everything about him for one but for another the man was warming up to him decently. He wasn’t becoming any more expressive or emotional. No it wasn’t anything like that. But he was actually getting to know Peter. And he wasn’t running.

Maybe because Peter actually wasn’t all that bad if someone took the time to get passed his carefully crafted ego of a narcissist twelve year old. All right… some of that wasn’t crafted.

“Hello?” Peter called out. The labs were mostly dark but Ray and Spengler had been working non stop on their new theories of paranormal whatsoever. The whole thing had just snowballed and now they were talking to the university about getting their own labs together instead of just sharing the space. To actually commit to a full project in parapsychology.

To be honest, Peter could see that Ray was falling for Spengler. And Peter didn’t know if he could share Egon just yet. He loved Ray as a friend but it was strictly or mostly platonic. He cherished the man. And Peter would never consider himself monogamous. ‘Polyamorous’ was the word. But he just wasn’t ready to share Egon just yet and truthfully, he knew Egon was far from ready. Peter was considering the wild possibility that Peter was the only one the scientist had ever seriously dated. And he would bet his doctorate on the fact that Egon was a virgin.

If that wasn’t strangely exciting. But it was.

He went to call out one more time before giving up but he spotted Egon in the far end of the labs by a tall, shaded window and approached him slowly. Curious. He seemed upset by something. “Egon? Hey what are you doing in here? They let everyone go early. Not that any of these eggheads ever take a break-”

“I know we’ve only had a few dates.” Egon cut in, working his hands nervously in front of him, mostly staring at the floor and apparently fighting the urge to pace.

“Yeah…” Peter said.

“And I probably shouldn’t tell you this but I do have some issues and I’m not sure if we should continue to date-”

Peter’s stomach flipped a little unpleasantly at the thought of that. “Issues with... us?”

“No, no.” Egon looked upset by the notion and Peter immediately relaxed. “No, nothing with us. In fact that’s been… but I personally have some issues-”

“That anxiety attack on the second date was a bit of a giveaway.” Peter interjected gently.

No matter how gentle, casual he tried to be, Egon winced considerably. “Yes… that. I’m still very sorry about that.”

“Shhh.” Peter shook his head. “None of that now so…” he reached out to gently stop Egon from fidgeting with his hands. “What’s up? Huh? Tell me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“What’s my PHD in?” Peter said quietly.

Egon abruptly stopped fidgeting with his hands, letting out a quiet breath and staring solemnly at the floor. “I have a social-pragmatic communication disorder-”  
“Asperger’s. I know.” Peter said. He’d decided on just holding Egon’s hands and he liked how the scientist’s larger ones felt in his anyway.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know. You are a gifted psychiatrist.”

Now Peter smiled. “Well I’ve never been called gifted before.”

“You are. You have a very… skilled way of diverting attention from yourself by being flippant, immature, acting careless, and socially crude towards women.”

“Wow. Well.” Peter smiled and let out a small laugh. “You certainly don’t pull punches.”

Egon winced and almost looked ready to apologize but Peter quickly gave his hands a squeeze and gentled and hushed his tone. “I like that. I really do. Hell you’re the first person besides Ray to actually give me a chance.” he smiled. “But you both tell it to me straight, even if I have to really piss off Ray for him to do it.”

“I… there’s something else. Beyond the anxiety attack that I had last month.”

Peter became more serious, smoothing his thumbs over Egon’s slightly chilled hands. “Don’t stop giving it to me straight now.”

“I have an unclassified panic disorder. It has a sudden onset, much like the anxiety attack you witnessed. But they are considerably severe. And the only way that I can avoid them is by avoiding certain pertaining stimuli. Such as overly crowded rooms and situations in which I experience a considerable amount of social stimulation. The rest I…” Egon gave a somewhat hopeless look around the room. “I can’t even begin to know what cases them.”

“You’re a scientist. I’m a psychiatrist.” Peter fixed him with a look. “So… you want to try and find out?”

Egon gave him a look, meeting his eyes levelly with his own. And that’s what else Peter already loved about the man. He was damn near fearless.

 

 **Fearless about a lot of things.** Peter could only count a handful of times that Egon had ever been truly afraid. His panic attacks, reasonably the first handful of times they’d ever seen an actual physical manifestation of the paranormal, but that was about it. And now, holding him in the back of Ecto 1, struggling to keep the taller scientist together - Peter could say this was the worst he’d ever seen him.

“Peter.” Ray said, speaking quietly and relatively calmly, but the statement - which was more of a question - was belayed by the outright fear in Ray’s eyes and the waver in his voice. He was gripping the passenger side of Ecto 1’s front seat with a white knuckle grip.

Peter couldn’t spare him much of a glance. The ‘safety word’ hadn’t work to ground Egon. The man had barely been able to say it but a few times. The beauty of dating a scientist, and being a psychiatric with what some would call ‘risky morals’ is that Egon had trusted him with some mental conditioning. The word should have worked. But it hadn’t. Something was just wrong about the situation on all levels. Too many.

“Egon-” Peter’s breath caught a bit and he decided within a heartbeat that he had to do something drastic. So he reached out for the medical kit, nodding Ray over. “Hold him steady. Just talk to him.”

Ray immediately got to his knees on the floor of the old ambulance hearse - what a combo - and took a hold of one of Egon’s tightly clenched hands. “Egon? Egon you gotta hang on for us. Come on now. Just try and _breathe_ -”

Peter was drawing up a syringe of Thorazine without a word. But he’d definitely admit to holding his breath while he did and maybe even apologizing to Egon after he’d given it all to him.

 

TBC (1/2)


End file.
